If you’ve come within a stone’s throw of any press about Sin City, you already know Rodriguez hit a home run. I don’t have to tell you it’s fantastic.
I love Rodriguez’ maverick style and his way of making films. He writes and directs. He uses his own cameras, he shoots and edits the thing himself and usually writes a good deal of the music. Nothing compromises his vision. And when he wanted Frank Miller as co-director, he resigned from the Director’s Guild to make it happen. He cares more about the art and staying true to the source material than anything else. Rodriguez reminds me that it is still possible to do fantastic, large scale creative things if you are passionate enough.
What I expected from Sin City was a dazzling demonstration of digital technology, a la Sky Captain. What I got instead was fantastic storytelling supported by a mature and painterly use of what digital can deliver. This is not a living graphic novel. For that, you’ll need to hold out for Linklater’s Scanner Darkly (2006?! WTF?).
This is a film noir Pulp Fiction, completely confident and unapologetic. Everyone you see on screen is either rough and used or beautiful as a diamond knife. It’s violent on a Tarantino scale, even with most of the blood colored white. The anti-heroes you meet are such badasses that you can’t kill them by running them down or merely shooting them. No, you have to be really dedicated to taking them out. And when I say “anti-heroes” I mean that not a one of them is pleasant. Mickey Rourke was my favorite as “Marv.” His exploits cross over into the realm of superheroics and anime. When you meet the villains, the slimy and soulless cretins of Sin City, you almost don’t care how the heroes take them down. If anyone was concerned about Elijah Wood being typecast as Frodo, you can put such fears to rest. He is freakish and utterly evil as the silent assassin, Kevin.
Fun, dark and brutal. That’s Sin City.
He keeps many secrets.
Sometimes the sense of being lost and adrift is so profound it is as though a giant hand prevents me from getting out of bed. What am I supposed to be doing with my life? Surely I’m not meant to be a graphic artist forever. I have this nagging sense that I am almost at a point where I can get a perspective on myself, a place of focus where I can see how all my interests, talents and desires mesh together. I’m also visited by this feeling of having to get Out There, like whatever I need is happening outside my world.